Discordia
by HorseLoverTW
Summary: A new half-blood arrives at camp to mix up the Percy Jackson universe, and she should be quite good at mixing it up considering who her mother is. Ares isn't the only God to delight in chaos. AU with mentions of Luke/Annabeth, Luke/Thalia, and Luke/OC.
1. Discord

"**Discordia"**

Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, Luke would be safe and sound in the end and Blackjack would be lord of the Pegasi.

A/N: WARNING- author has been known to sporadically leave works unfinished for long bouts at a time and to introduce mary-sues that tend to fall for broody bad guys. You've been warned.

Chapter 1: Discord

Silver edged clouds laced the sky, peppering the neighborhood below in short bursts of shade as they sped over tall, dying trees and aged brick houses. A girl stood in the brown lawn of one such overlooked house, gazing disdainfully over her suburban kingdom before she popped on her headphones and took off down the street with powerful strides. The rhythm in her ears echoed on the hot pavement below her and through the eerily quiet porches as she pounded by. Her songs changed many times as did the street names that flew past, but she was used to this neighborhood and the route she jogged. Soon, as was always the case once she passed the creepy two story on Madera Avenue, she was struggling to keep up, her breaths becoming labored and sweat dampening her brow.

A shadow flew over her, and she used its coolness as a goal to maintain her tempo. Unfortunately, it was not the shadow of a cloud overhead.

The shadow shrank until it was the silhouette of a disfigured woman, with heavy wings and a grotesquely pointed face. It was directly over the girl now, and as she witnessed its transformation, her already erratic heartbeat thumping even louder against her ribs like a hummingbird trapped in a box, she glanced up and saw what could only be described by her heat addled brain as a harpy.

She didn't really have any other terms for the creature that had the torso of a woman- a very well endowed woman- feathers everywhere, the wings and tail of a vulture, and the face of a hag with the beak of an eagle and ears like a beagle. She had seen something similar in her childhood favorite, 'The Last Unicorn.'

However, this was not a movie and the creature was only a dozen feet above her, its sharp eyes and clicking beak gleaming in the bright sunlight.

Ungracefully, the girl fell face first into the pavement, her palms taking the worst of it before her body rolled several times at the sudden loss of momentum. She was numb for a moment before the beating of thick black wings very near her face cleared the stars from her eyes and she raised her head off the blacktop. The harpy smiled, if it's possible for harpies to smile, and hopped awkwardly toward her on devilishly sharp, clawed bird's legs.

"STOP! Get away from her!" A voice shouted somewhere behind the harpy and the girl. Both turned to see what must have been a shock, for the girl's oddly colored eyes widened even further to the point they were in danger of bursting something, and the harpy's beak opened as if to squawk in protest.

It was Ernie Statford, the thin and nerdy sophomore that the girl had occasionally glanced skulking about in the crowded hallways of her school. She only remembered his name because earlier that same week, she had caught him staring at her, the intense, creepy sort of stare you really don't want on you, and had inquired who he was, and if, you know, some kind of restraining order was needed.

Now, the shy and awkward teen was wielding a gnarled stick, or rather a club, and galloping toward the harpy as if he intended to strike her with it. The girl watched, mystified, as Ernie leaped at the harpy and simultaneously clubbed her over the head while his oddly jointed legs struck a resounding blow to her beaked jaw.

He landed neatly on the other side of the harpy and wheeled around, poised to strike again but there was no need. The harpy flapped her wings like a nervous turkey for a moment, clicked her beak in disapproval and then flew off, her shadowy figure disappearing into a benevolent silvery cloud that quickly passed over the neighborhood and meandered serenely on its way to the next.

Ernie hobbled over to the girl and helped her stand, even being so bold as to wrap his arm around her waist as her shaky legs gave out and she attempted to rejoin her friend, the pavement.

Seeing him close-up, she noticed a few things that the hoodie and baggy jeans he always wore while at school tended to hide: his curly dark hair hid two tiny spiraled horns, like a baby ram's, and his legs were oddly joined because they were the legs of a goat, complete with hocks, wooly grey fur, and little black cloven hoofs where his feet should have been. His human skin was olive toned and his arms, uncovered as they were with the fitted white t-shirt he was sporting, showed very nicely toned muscles. His warm brown eyes gazed into her hers as his lips moved.

"Did you hear me at all just now?" Ernie was saying, frustration beginning to override his concern.

"Oh, sorry…" the girl shook her head, trying to quickly wrap her mind around the fact that harpies and satyrs were real, as well as the fact that Ernie Statford happened to be a major hottie, with goat legs.

He began half leading, half carrying the girl down the street back toward the direction of her house. How he knew where her house was, she didn't really want to know. "I said, we need to get you out of here now. There's going to be more where she came from and only one safe place for you to go."

"A mental institution?"

"No, Ari," he said her name with a sigh, the frustration now evident. "Camp Half-Blood."

The girl laughed and took a little bit more of her own weight so that he could release her waist. "A _harpy_," she said the word like it was infected, "attacks me and I'm supposed to go to some summer camp?!"

Ernie forcefully stopped her, catching her shoulders and whirling her around so that his chocolaty gaze could hammer the severity of his words in. "This is a special camp for those who require sanctuary from monsters and things that would otherwise see them dead. Now that you've been exposed, more monsters will come for you."

The humor in her cyan eyes died. "Why would monsters suddenly want me dead and just how the hell is some _kiddie camp _supposed to keep me safe?" She backed a few steps away from him. "How do I even know I can trust you?"

"The camp is the only thing that can keep you alive right now. You can either trust that or see how far you'll get on your own," he said, suddenly looking a decade older and a lifetime wiser. Looking at him now, she could barely remember the scrawny, hunched over kid that stalked her in the hallways.

She shivered, the feeling of being watched, hunted, crawling over her skin like worms. She heaved a great sigh and regarded her strange and mysterious savior once more, the honesty in his animal like eyes digging straight to her soul, if such a beast existed. "Alright, it's not like I had any great scholarships to look forward to here anyway." She said recklessly, the need to move, to escape the openness surrounding her overwhelming. "Where to?"

"New York, but we'll need to go cross country. Flying is too risky."

"Riiight. And there won't be any friends of the harpy meeting up with us on some whirlwind road trip instead?"

"Better to have somewhere to exit than a thousand feet down."

"Ah, I see…

But the girl was cut off as a police car pulled up beside the two and a cop in ray-bans lowered his window. "Is there a problem?" If he noticed that Ernie had a goat's behind, he didn't seem to let on.

The girl arched an eyebrow and glanced at Ernie but his eyes were cast down. "No sir. My, uh… friend and I were just talking."

"What are your names?" He asked curtly, a pad in hand and a pencil poised.

"Really, sir. I don't understand. Have we done something…"

"There was a report of some screaming a few streets down from here. I'm just wanting to make sure that everyone is alright."

He sure didn't sound like the caring type if his tone was any indication but she didn't need a trip to the station on top of the day she was already having. "Arista Darios." When Ernie still didn't say anything, Arista added with a roll of her eyes, "And this is my mute friend, Ernie Statford."

The cop jotted down their names and then smiled. "Thank you," he said slowly, and turned to put down his pad and pencil. As he turned back to them, he slid off his ray-bans.

Arista didn't have a chance to scream before Ernie tackled her to the pavement where a new street burn was engraved in her arm and a rush of heat flew over their heads.

"Time to go!" Ernie shouted.


	2. Live and Vote

"**Discordia"**

Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, Luke would be safe and sound in the end and Blackjack would be lord of the Pegasi.

A/N: Thanks to the three that reviewed.

Chapter 2: Live and Vote

Ba-dumm. Ba-dumm. Ba-dumm.

Arista cracked open one eye as the steady thumps in the street below her beat-up Sunfire clamored past. She glanced over surreptitiously at Ernie who was still at the wheel and religiously nursing a bottle of Mountain Dew in a vain effort at cranking out a few more hours of road, hoping his goat senses didn't include picking up on her being awake. In the darkness outside her foggy window, she could make out a few stately trees in the distance and endless panes of white-railed fences.

"You should be sleeping right now."

His voice startled her. His slight accent normally provided a soothing, exotic quality, but against the throbbing silence of the dead of night they were tensely racing past, it sounded like gunfire to her jittery nerves.

"I know." Her voice came out like more of a squeak than she meant it to. She cleared her throat and tried to sound more her age. "There's a lot to process right now though, and hey, turning wheels and all that."

He tore his eyes from the road for a moment, his look showing concern and Arista wondered, not for the first time that night, just how old her new friend really was. "Do you want to talk about it?" He gave a little grin, "And it would be in your best interest to keep me awake."

"I…um…" She bit her lip. "Alright. You've already saved my life, _twice now._ Returning the favor's the least I can do."

"Very kind."

"Well, if you're going to be that way, just keep the conversation going with your friend Dew."

He laughed, and it sounded like low wind chimes in a late afternoon breeze. "_Dew_ is nowhere near as interesting as you. Please explain to me again what happened with your father. I didn't understand it at all."

Arista sighed and leaned her forehead against the window again. The night air just through the glass tickled her nose, like the ghost of a scent she knew wasn't actually there. "He loves me, he really does, but he knows me well enough to leave me alone."

"That sounds an awful lot like neglect."

"It's never felt that way. I would almost call it freedom if I'd ever actually done anything with my father's generous gift."

"Why haven't you? You're eighteen. You're not an outcast from what I've gathered at school, and it's not like you're that _hideous_."

She swatted at him. "Oh, charming and hairy legs, how _do_ the she-goats resist you?"

His grin faded. "But in earnest, why do you never…" he trailed off, seemingly unsure of how to put whatever he wanted to say delicately.

"Act like a teenager? Get drunk? Have sex? Go smoke?" She supplied helpfully.

"Live." He replied simply and silence filled the small car once more.

Finally, she whispered plaintively, her voice a little hoarse, "I've voted."

Ernie laughed, "Living life dangerously there."

"I suppose it's a matter of expectations," Arista started, her words gaining strength as she thought about the weary, defeated face of her father as he bid her goodbye for what could have been their final time together. "He gave me the freedom to make my own choices and in doing so, I think he expected me to make mistakes and fail. I liked proving him wrong; that I'm more responsible than he gives me credit for."

"Perhaps it was reverse psychology?"

"That would be the kinder, gentler version. But I've always gotten the feeling that my father was, is, deeply in love with my mom and she disappointed him, threw him for some kind of loop, and he's always just 'known' than I'm bound to disappoint him the same way… no matter how many times I've proven to him that I'm not my mom."

"I suppose he does not mention her much then. Do you even know your mother's name?"

Her head snapped up as she turned accusing eyes on him. "Why? Do you?"

"I have some theories of who your mother might be, but I wanted to hear yours first."

"He's never told me her name. I don't even know what she looks like; if I have her eyes or her hair color, or her hatred of math."

"Do you wonder why it is called 'Camp Half-Blood' where we're headed?"

"Someone was a little too drunk on Harry Potterisms?"

Ernie sighed. "Arista, you're talking to a Satyr while fleeing for your life from what must be to you, fairy tale monsters and you're not even the least bit curious as to _what_ your mother was?"

"You're saying she was some kind of monster and they're trying to recruit me or something? I don't buy it."

Ernie tightened his lips and gripped the wheel, his knuckles turning white before he suddenly jerked the steering wheel to the right. The car's balance shifted, its center of gravity thrown into chaos as the wheels screeched in protest and the world spun out of control.

For Arista, all she could feel was the pounding of her heart as it beat against her chest. Every ending was ringing with its rhythm until even her eyes filled and thrummed to her heart's driving force. Then everything stopped, and for brief flashes, she saw the world frame by frame. She could feel the vinyl against her back through the soft cotton of her t-shirt. She could see the cow watching them with interest, its doe-eyed calf hidden safely behind it, beneath an oak tree a hundred meters away. She could hear the small intake of breath as Ernie rode out the spin and willed the car to a stop.

Her vision tinged with red and the reverberations pounded in her sockets until she realized that noise and action had returned to normal, full volume, and she was panting, her body braced for impact.

"What the hell was that for?!" She nearly screamed, her fear and anger colored with the blood she still saw out the corners of her sight.

Instead of answering her, he asked, his own voice a little shaky, "Did you notice anything as we spun?"

She didn't answer him, too annoyed and panicked to give him the satisfaction.

But apparently he was perfectly content with the sound of his own voice. "Time slowed down. You noticed small details, things you wouldn't have even sensed in a normal setting."

"So what sort of monster could my mother be for me to have Spidey senses?"

"The opposite really. She's a Goddess and you're by default, a demigod."


	3. Just a little Chaos

"**Discordia"**

_Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, Blackjack would be ruler of all. _

_A/N: Thanks to the few that offered feedback. It makes my day go round. _

Chapter 3: Just a little Chaos

One particularly obnoxious cricket chirp awoke Arista from a light slumber. She groggily opened her heavy eyelids, which had no doubt formed impressively purple raccoon spots from the extremely unsatisfying naps she'd been enjoying since going on the lamb with her Satyr companion nearly three days ago. She stiffly stretched against the cramped length of the backseat in her Sunfire and listened for a moment to the steady breaths of Ernie as he napped in the reclined driver's seat, his grey-coated goat legs tucked one over the other and his arms pillowed behind his head.

Quietly, Arista opened the car door and took a few unsteady steps into the woods next to the side of the road where they had pulled over for the night. Though it was summer, the air was cool, almost crisp, and the sky above rural New York was oddly crystal clear, every star and constellation glittering like a thousand friendly fireflies through the branches of the maples.

Arista wondered aimlessly for a few minutes, seeking to put as much distance between herself and her car before she used the outdoor facilities. Just as she was about to unbutton her jeans, a low growl echoed from the trees directly behind her. Arista froze.

Only the sounds of the woods permeated the silence until the unmistakable growl announced itself once more, this time joined by the ominous crunching of leaves as the grizzly, only ten meters away from Arista slowly advanced on her.

The world slowed as Arista spun to face her assailant. Even the bear seemed to be moving in slow-motion as it lumbered toward her, its black eyes glowing like onyx in the night. Arista, oddly calm, wrapped in her adrenaline haze, stood transfixed. Her mind told her she had plenty of time; time enough to jump out of its way, time to evade it, time to even try to run from it. But something eluded her mind, something that told her to stare the creature down, to look deep into its gleaming obsidian soul and…

…laugh.

It started as a soft chuckle, but then grew until Arista was laughing in earnest, a maniacal, wholly unattractive sort of laughter that makes hair stand on end and pinpricks of panic run down spines.

The bear skidded to a halt, and was now the enraptured one. Its fearsome face went slack, as if it had just been asked how a raven and a writing desk were alike. They stood that way for several moments, Arista madly laughing and the bear gazing perplexedly at her. Suddenly, the bear began to shake its head, as if to dislodge a tick from its ear. Soon, it was thrashing with the effort, its entire body seeking relief and lunging sideways into a large maple.

As the bear started pounding its head against the trunk, Arista's laughter died and tears streaked down her cheeks.

"Oh… please…" she whimpered pleadingly to the bear.

Just as suddenly as the bear had snapped, its pain and confusion ended. It shook its furry head one last time before regarding her wearily, as if she were the predator and he the prey. Fearfully, the bear turned tail and fled urgently off in the direction it had come, leaving Arista once more in the crisp stillness of the woods.

Later that morning, once the sun had finally peeked through the branches and they were on the road again, Ernie turned to her and asked, "You are being awfully quiet."

Arista stared out the window, lost in her encounter with the grizzly. "Just not a morning person, I guess," she muttered darkly.

If Ernie knew something was up with her, he didn't let on. "We will be at camp in a few hours. You were asking so many questions of it yesterday I thought Pan might be found before you were satisfied. Are you sure there's nothing else you wish to know before we arrive?"

"Pan's the God all Satyrs are on the look out for right?"

He nodded.

Arista thought of all she had learned of their fantastical destination. Camp Half-Blood was situated on the end of Long Island, the weather tempered by the Gods into perfection and headed by an aged Centaur by the name of Chiron. The campers all lived in twelve cabins ordered as the Gods of Mount Olympus were.

Arista ripped her gaze from the window as inspiration struck her. "I get that your cabin is decided based on parentage, but there's only twelve of them."

Ernie was silent, waiting for her to continue and obviously missing her point.

"Well, what about the other Gods and Goddesses? I mean, there were way more in Greek mythology than just the twelve main ones."

Ernie nodded in understanding. "Yes, that has been a problem. Usually, children of the lesser Gods stay in the Hermes Cabin along with all the unclaimed."

Arista made a face. "That sounds pretty snobby to me. And the Hermes kids can't be too happy with all the extra people forced to stay in their cabin."

"Hermes is the God of travelers and migrants," Ernie said with a shrug. "What other cabin would take them in?"

"_Them_?" Arista asked indignantly. "What if I am the child or a 'lesser' God or Goddess?"

Ernie sighed. "I didn't mean it like that. I apologize. If you are not a child of one of the twelve, you will be more than welcome in the Hermes Cabin. There's nothing to worry about. You'll be accepted."

"Says the guy with wooly legs."

Conversation was scattered and tense the next several hours as they traversed the state of New York, coming to Long Island from the west. They had stopped once to get some food, which had unfortunately meant the last of their very meager finances, and once due to a Giant. By the time Arista's worn Sunfire turned onto Farm Road 3.141, the sun was already going down and the woods and strawberry fields on either side of the road were bathed in a warm, golden glow.

"It's beautiful…" Arista sighed, her heart speeding up as they came upon an overhanging sign that read easily to her dyslexic brain, 'Delphi Strawberry Company.'

They drove for a few seconds through a winding dirt road before a large two-story farmhouse came into view. Ernie slid the car to a stop in front of it and killed the engine. They sat quietly for a brief moment, remembering their journey together before they both looked at each other.

"I…" they both started to say and then smiled at one another.

Ernie grabbed her hand swiftly, startling her, his warm olive hand enfolding hers easily. He grinned at her and said quietly, "Of all the demigods I have recruited, I think I have enjoyed finding you the most."

Arista didn't know what to say, but just then was saved the trouble by a melodious feminine voice shouting, "Ernesto! Is that you?" It came from a beautiful young girl, around fourteen or fifteen by the looks of her. She had flowing coppery hair and a delicate child-like face with wide brown eyes.

Arista raised an eyebrow at Ernie as the girl came up to the Sunfire. Ernie shrugged in apology. "My girlfriend, Willow."

Arista was quiet as she watched Ernie get out of the car and embrace his girlfriend.

"I was so worried about you!" Willow was saying as Ernie held her tight and tenderly stroked her long wispy hair.

Thankfully, the porch light came on at that moment, interrupting the revolting scene before Arista that might have forced her to do something drastic, like cough or clear her throat to point out the fact that she was still sort of there.

Ernie tore himself away from Willow, although their hands were still joined, and motioned for Arista to join them and greet whoever it was rolling out of the farmhouse in a wheelchair.

The man was middle-aged with curly brown hair and an attractively clipped beard. His eyes reflected nothing but the woods around them and the fire burning in the distance by a Greek styled pavilion. His skin was deeply tanned and his lips thinned as if he spent too much time in contemplation. There was something about the way he leaned on one arm of his wheelchair that let Arista know he had seen and done far more than she would ever imagine.

He rolled up to them and smiled warmly at Ernie. "Ah, I'm happy to see you again, Ernesto. You've been away far too long."

Ernie nodded politely. "I'm glad to be back, sir." He stepped aside a little and made introductions, "This is the demigod I found, Arista Darios. Arista, this is our activities director, Chiron."

Arista did a double take, with special attention to the wheelchair.

"…Uh…but…" she stumbled.

"Where's my better half, you wonder?" Chiron supplied, amusement evident in his wizened face.

Arista nodded dumbly.

"I prefer being in my human guise whenever meeting new campers. Also," he added conspiratorially as he ushered her inside the farmhouse, "It helps keep down the cost of floor repairs."

Arista hesitated as she saw that Ernie and Willow wouldn't be joining them.

"It's alright," Ernie whispered before Willow began leading him off towards the trees. "I'll meet up with you later!" he shouted over his shoulder before the two of them became gleefully veiled in the branches and whispers of giggles were all that remained.

Chiron led her to a large table where he offered her a seat before pulling his wheelchair up opposite her. A girl around twelve with glossy golden locks and stormy grey eyes trotted into the room, sat a glass of water in front of Arista and perched herself in the seat beside Chiron as though it were customary and then gave Arista the once over as though analyzing a particularly fascinating laboratory specimen. She was wearing an orange t-shirt that read, '_Camp Half-Blood_' and was wringing a Yankees cap absently in her hands.

"And who are you?" Arista asked tersely, slightly unsettled with the scrutiny in the girl's hard stare.

"Annabeth Chase," the girl offered quickly.

"Annabeth greets all of the newcomers," Chiron supplied with an edge of exasperation, almost like the sigh of a father exhausted by the antics of his daughter. It was at that moment that Arista had her very first inkling that Camp might be okay if there were others like the stately Chiron watching over them. "She's looking for someone in particular."

Annabeth spared him a look and Arista resisted the urge to laugh.

"So what happens now?" Arista asked, folding her hands on the table and looking from Annabeth to Chiron, humor at the entire situation eating away at her.

"Well, I will have Annabeth escort you to the Hermes Cabin where you'll be staying until you're claimed." Arista frowned and Chiron quickly moved on, "Tomorrow morning, I will hand you a schedule at breakfast and you'll be starting camp."

"That's fast…" Arista murmured, "…what if I don't like it here… what will happen?"

"You're under no obligation to stay with us, Miss Darios, but…"

Annabeth interjected, "It's way better here than the alternative."

"Being?"

Annabeth became steely and Arista could tell she was reliving some horrible experience. "Constantly living on the run, hunted by monsters with no home to go to and no end in sight."

Arista smirked at the girl's oddly mature outlook. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

Chiron glanced between the two, amused. Finally, he pushed his wheelchair from the table and told Annabeth, "Make sure that the Stoll brothers leave her alone, Annabeth."

Annabeth nodded solemnly and began marching out of the farmhouse, not even waiting to see if Arista was following.

"Thank you for taking me in," Arista said quietly to the paraplegic Centaur before turning to follow the serious twelve-year old.

"A pleasure, my dear," Chiron said just as Arista hit the last step on the porch.

_Please review! (With cherries, err… strawberries on top)_


	4. Disarray

"**Discordia"**

_Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, Blackjack would be ruler of all. _

_A/N: Thanks to the few that offered feedback. It makes my day go round. To ThaliaGrace17, right on! _

Chapter 4: Disarray

"So, who is it that you're always looking for?" Arista asked Annabeth as the two trudged through the darkness toward what appeared to be the row of cabins Arista knew housed the campers and ostracized those not claimed.

Annabeth kept walking for a ways, nimbly choosing her path over the uneven terrain with a grace that told Arista the girl would one day make a killer soccer player. Just as Arista was about to restate the question, Annabeth replied, "There was a prophecy made by the Oracle…"

"She's real too!?" Arista blurted, astonished and now peering even harder into the darkness for hints of other mythological depictions to suddenly spring forth.

"Yes, she's the mummy that lives in the attic of the Big House we just came from," Annabeth described, a slight impatience now lacing her quick words. "She prophesized a long time ago that a demigod child of one of the big three…"

"Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, right?"

She nodded before continuing, "Would one day save or destroy Olympus when they turned sixteen."

"Guess I'm safe then," Arista joked.

Annabeth narrowed her stormy eyes, and Arista, all of eighteen, shrunk back a little from the twelve year old.

"Sorry," Arista murmured. "All of this still feels sort of surreal to me though. You're a daughter of Athena right?"

Annabeth seemed surprised but nodded. "How did you know?"

"Your eyes. That, and the third degree back in the Big House. You have a pretty powerful stare…" Annabeth seemed to lighten up at that, and Arista could swear she saw a feint smile from the corner of her eye. "So how does this prophecy concern you?"

Annabeth paused before answering. Shyly, she finally uttered, "I…uh…was told that I would play a key role in helping the demigod save or destroy Olympus."

Arista smirked at how embarrassed the girl seemed. "Wicked," and an assured nod of her dirty blonde head was all she offered in response, giving the girl she found herself growing an odd predilection for a hard time.

"Not really," Annabeth said dryly, but then she noticed Arista's expression and gave a short laugh. "It's not funny!" She said while still grinning. "It's the fate of the world."

Arista smiled down at her. "Do prophecies always come true _exactly_ as they're interpreted? Because based on my _extensive_ readings on the subject, they hardly ever happen as you think they will."

"What readings?"

"Mostly Star Wars and Harry Potter. A little King Arthur."

Annabeth snorted. "But those are all made up stories. The Oracle has been predicting the future for the past three and a half millennia. Besides, just because prophecies don't turn out the way you expect, doesn't mean they'll turn out happily ever after."

"I didn't say that," Arista said, her smirk finally dying. "There are no happy endings because nothing ever ends. Prophesies come and go, what I'm saying is don't dwell. He'll come soon enough."

Annabeth didn't say anything, but seemed to nod her head ever so slightly before she stopped short. Arista noted that they were standing in a courtyard surrounded by odd shaped cabins on three sides, like an elongated horseshoe. Annabeth turned to her and gestured to the cabin one from the end. "That's the Hermes Cabin."

It was incredibly old and worn looking, its dull brown paint chipping off and the caduceus hanging over the doorway was slightly tilted, giving it the look that it might fall and impale someone soon. Loud, obnoxious music was coming through from inside where a stream of yellow light could be seen through the dingy, curtained windows.

"_Seriously_?" Arista asked, her nose wrinkling.

Instead of answering her, Annabeth said, as though she had given this speech a thousand times, "The Hermes Camp Councilor is really great. He'll show you where you can sleep and such. Try to make sure that anything you don't want stolen is on your person at all times and don't forget to see Chiron tomorrow morning during breakfast for your schedule."

"So you're just going to abandon me now?" Arista asked, only half joking.

Annabeth shrugged. "We're not really supposed to go into Cabins that aren't ours. Same goes with tables at the dining area."

Satisfied that she had accomplished her task, Annabeth turned to go but Arista tapped her on the shoulder before she could make her escape. She looked up inquiringly at the odd older girl before her with strange, mischievous eyes that appeared to change color with their surroundings and dirty blonde hair so long that the messy pony-tail it was tied in reached the middle of her blue t-shirt clad back.

"Yes?"

Arista gave her a warm smile before offering her hand and saying, "It was very nice to meet you, Annabeth. Will you promise to fraternize with a lowly Hermes Camper in the future?"

Annabeth grinned and clasped her hand. "Count on it."

Arista watched her go for a minute, a growing sense of anticipation filling her stomach at the prospect of meeting other demigods, particularly those that seemed to have a pendant for stealing and playing pranks.

When her young friend had finally disappeared inside a plain, silvery building with an owl posted over the entrance, Arista heaved a sigh and reluctantly mounted the steps into the Hermes cabin.

The first thing she noticed was the disarray.

The music wasn't obnoxious because it was rock, or rap, or country, or pop. It was obnoxious because it was all of these plus a few she couldn't ascertain all blaring at the same time from boom boxes spread across the over-crowded room. Bunk beds were strewn everywhere, with only one made up in the far corner where a boy, or possibly man as he appeared about Arista's age or older, sat madly punching buttons on a controller to a car race video game. There were a few brightly patterned rugs adorning the hard wood floor, but rather than make the room cozier, they served to lure what looked like several rabid species of dust bunny and soda stain. At least, Arista hoped it was soda stain.

Most of the campers were too absorbed in their conversations and games to notice her arrival but a tall and skinny boy, around fifteen or sixteen, with a mop of curly brown hair that hung in his impish eyes and a frighteningly playful smile, like he had just stuck a glow in the dark 'kick-me' sign on someone's butt, spotted her.

"Over here, fresh meat!" he hollered energetically at her, so loudly she winced as now the entire cabin was alerted to awkward newness.

A few of the boom boxes turned off, creating a silence that made Arista wish for all kinds of horribly paired musical genres. Grimacing and promising herself not to look at the ground as she made her way over, the tall boy made like a Cheshire and poked the back of the boy next to him who had been engrossed in a card game that looked suspiciously like 'Speed' with a few other boys and one very elfish looking girl.

"Looks like we got a new one, Conner!" the boy shouted to his friend, even though he was sitting only a foot away with his chair propped up on two legs. The boy that must have been Conner skidded his chair around and straddled it so he could rest his head on the back as he examined their newest roommate.

Arista had to bite her lip to keep her jaw from dropping.

Conner and curly top were apparently twins and that creepily mischievous smile was on both their sprite-like faces. Glancing at others around the room, she noticed that there were more than a few that had the same playful look. The kind that would make you a little worried if it didn't always keep you smiling with them.

No wonder Hermes had so many children.

"What's your name? Do you know yet who your God might be? Did you have a lot of monsters after you on your way here? How old are you? What do you have in your backpack?" came the rapid-fire inquisition, as one twin and then another alternated questions at her.

Overwhelmed by them and only slightly amused, Arista backed away a little and held a hand up for peace. Her other hand gripped the shoulder strap to her small backpack a little tighter. "Hey, nice to meet you guys too."

She was about to attempt answering them when a resonant voice called out behind her, "Ease off there guys. She just got here five seconds ago."

Arista whirled around to face the boy-man she had glanced at in the corner. He looked much better close up. _Smoking cute_ was the exact phrase that popped up in her erratic mind as she gaped at his smirking lips, his expertly gelled hair- the exact shade as her own- his lean, athletic build, and his sky-blue eyes.

"Uh…"

His lips quirked up as did one eyebrow at her state before he asked, "Arista, right?"

She nodded dumbly before her brain could remind herself that she was indeed still required to function like a normal person instead of a crazy pile of Jell-O.

"Chiron gave me the heads up just a sec ago that you were coming. Hope Annabeth didn't scare you off." He glanced at the twins. "Or these clowns," he added as an afterthought which earned him two identically indignant 'Hey's!'

Arista saw as he looked at Conner and his brother, a ragged white scar running down the middle of his right cheek from just below his eye. He went from cute to a little dangerous in that moment but she wouldn't hold it against him.

"No…err," she cleared her throat, trying to sound more confident as she answered, "Annabeth was great." Luke smiled at that. "And I'm afraid you all know my name now but I have no idea what to call any of you."

Conner gestured to his brother, "This is Travis."

"And this handsome fellow," the taller twin Travis announced, laughter in his eyes, "is Conner."

"And my name is Luke Castellan," the smoking cute guy introduced as he shook her hand, his calluses oddly endearing to her own rather rough hands. "I'll be your councilor for your stay in Cabin Eleven."

_Review por favor!_


	5. Unrest

"**Discordia"**

_Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, Blackjack would be my prelim ride. _

_A/N: I would greatly appreciate any feedback. Thanks to the few that have reviewed. _

Chapter 5: Unrest

"So…" Arista began, tightly gripping her nightclothes to her chest as her eyes darted all the way across the cabin to where the facilities were located. "Everyone getting ready in the morning must be crazy time…"

Okay, she knew she was being lame, but what was she supposed to make small talk out of? Here she was, grimy new girl with unfathomable parentage and no clue what she was doing at a camp for Demigods and there he was, this great camp councilor, Luke apparently- and yea, alright. He was great in the sense of being totally laid back and extremely gifted in the hotness of Hermes- but come on! To have the awkwardness of being in the bunk above him? It was a bit more than her perennial shyness could stand.

Luke glanced down at her from where he stood on the wobbly bunk ladder, checking over her bed to make sure it had a blanket, sheets, pillow, and the support structure to ensure he wouldn't be dying that night. She wasn't fat, but then again, the beds did look pretty rickety.

"Crazy is a bit of an understatement. I would suggest showering at night or waking up when I do to feed the Pegasi."

Arista's eyes widened and her heart accelerated. "I'm sorry, the _what_?"

He carefully climbed down from the ladder, seemingly satisfied that the bunks would survive, or that the last inhabitant hadn't left any surprises in her sheets, and said, "The Pegasi."

"As in the winged horse of Greek Mythology? As in, more than one of him?" Arista asked, breathless.

Luke lightly flopped onto his bed and regarded her for a moment before picking up his controller to resume the race game. "Yep. 4:45 sharp if you want to have a look at them before breakfast," he said and then fell into pounding the buttons and pretending she wasn't still standing before his bunk, amazement and awe flooding her veins so badly it was a wonder she didn't have a stroke.

Calming herself and trying to gage how engrossed he really was and ignorant to her presence, Arista endeavored one more question. "If I leave my backpack on my bed, will it still be there when I return?"

Luke didn't look up as he replied. "Of course. The items inside might be a different story however. This is the Hermes Cabin, not amateur hour."

When she neglected to retort, he finally paused the game and looked up to see the stricken expression on her face. "Hey, easy. I was kidding. Well…mostly at any rate. You go ahead and take as long as you like. We all understand how hard the road can be getting here, and anyway, no one would steal your things from right over my head. They'd get extra sword sharpening duty and miss out on 'capture the flag."

"Thank you," Arista murmured, quickly trying to school her features and avoid his intense gaze. She tossed her backpack onto the bunk above Luke's and dashed off across the cabin toward the bathrooms. It would be her first shower that week, and distractions aside, she planned to fully enjoy it.

It turned out to be a lot like the girls' locker room at her ex-High School, and when she thought of it that way, the community setting didn't bother her as much. The only difference in fact, aside from the splintery wood verses the impersonal steel, was that there didn't seem to be any girls her own age. She saw a few that might be Annabeth's, and one that could have passed for sixteen, but overall, Arista was feeling exceptionally old.

Like a geriatric on myspace, she witnessed as the pre-teens lathered up their baby bodies in sweet smelling lotions and painted their toenails various shades of bubblegum and magenta. Having brought nothing of the sort with her, and well out grown of spending her own hard earned money on careless luxuries, Arista smirked at their eagerness to mature and wrapped a towel tightly around her drenched locks. The shower had indeed been wonderful.

But now she was faced with the reality that she would be spending an indefinite space of time sleeping only a few feet north of the enigmatic and potentially problematic Luke Castellan.

Finishing up and packing her toiletries away, Arista heaved a sigh.

Problematic came only four hours later when her digital stop watch alarm rung sharply into her ear, from where it was stationed on her pillowed wrist.

The sound was so shrill, and so deep had been her dream of grey fur and olive kissed skin, that Arista flailed for a moment, unaware of her surroundings, and accidentally ended up rolling herself off the six foot high bunk. She landed with a thud on her rump, sure that her tailbone was shattered.

"You know, there _are_ easier ways down," was Luke's succulent reply to her supreme display of idiocy. He finished methodically tying his trainers before he rose to help her off the floor. Horrified, Arista pretended to dust herself off before she looked at him again. When she finally did, she saw that he had been grinning at her, the quick, conspiratorial grin she just knew the majority of the kids in Cabin Eleven shared. "Well, we know you're probably not a child of Hermes," he teased in a low whisper as he ushered her toward the bathrooms with her things.

"Not unless Hermes likes to play mom every now and then," Arista whispered back, cringing a little as a loud snore came from the direction of where the Stoll brothers were bunked.

"Oh, so you're a half-blood on your mom's side. Well, that narrows it down somewhat." They paused outside the entrance to the bathroom and for the first time that morning, Arista could clearly make out his face. Supposing that her silence might have needed clarification, he explained, "A lot of kids come without any knowledge of either of their parents."

"It's weird that I should feel fortunate when you say that. I guess there really is someone out there who's always going to have it worse than you," Arista offered.

Luke's scar seemed to glow in the meager light coming from the restrooms as he nodded his head darkly. "It's easy to find them too. Especially here at Camp Half-Blood." He paused a moment, his face etched in the contemplation of one attempting to rein in some stray thought that had obstinately galloped off in the wrong direction. He seemed to have stopped the runaway then, because when he finally spoke again, the darkness was gone from his voice and his blue eyes. "I'll meet you outside the Cabin in about five minutes. The Pegasi are used to eating at five and breakfast for the campers always starts at sunup so we'll need to hurry."

She nodded and they both went their ways, each curious. Arista, for what was to come. Luke, for why the chaos of his nightmares that night had been muted, almost as though Kronos were experiencing interference in his ritual terrorizing of Luke's mind.


	6. Unbalanced

"**Discordia"**

_Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, Blackjack would be my prelim ride. _

_A/N: I would greatly appreciate any feedback. Thanks to the few that have reviewed. _

Chapter 6: Unbalanced

"How did you come by the job of morning feeding?" Arista asked Luke as the two made their way up a narrow trail, their destination a modest red barn at the crest of a grassy hill. A few crickets chirped in the distance, adding to the flickering fireflies and giggles heard from the trees to disrupt the otherwise peaceful silence. All around Luke and Arista, the darkness waned as morning light fought through from the ocean to the east.

His hands in his pockets to stem the cool morning air, Luke shrugged. "I'm a light sleeper… never had trouble with waking up early like a lot of campers seem to."

"Do you…um…enjoy it?" She glanced at him and then quickly turned back to her footing.

"Sure. I like riding almost as much as I like fencing. And take my word," he smiled, tapping her with his elbow, "that's saying something."

"How long have you been here?" She asked suddenly, only regretting the question after the long pause that Luke answered her with.

"For a few years…" he vaguely answered at last.

"Sorry…"

"No," he turned to her, but she couldn't make out much of his face as the shadows swirled over them. "S'okay. It's just that my arrival at camp was…well, eventful is a bit of an understatement."

A little disappointed with his evasiveness, she sighed. "Alright. So, umm…" She wanted to ask about his father. Had he ever met him? What were the Gods like? But she thought better of it as Luke slid the barn door open, allowing her to enter first. It seemed too personal and she didn't want to scare him off yet, not when he was being so nice to her on her first day.

"Wow!" She exclaimed as she took in the immaculate aisle way and the two rows of pristine stalls. A few eager faces, ears pricked, appeared over the stall doors as the Pegasi began to nicker for their breakfast. "This is awesome!"

"It's not bad," he said, slightly amused at her reaction and then surprised her by grabbing her wrist in the near darkness. "Let me show you where the feed is and then I can make introductions." The feel of his hand on her skin sent annoying tingles up her arm and made her uncomfortably aware of how very warm her hand was becoming. But his grip was gentle, beckoning, as he led her toward the far end of the barn.

Having done this probably a thousand times, Arista wondered why it took him a few moments to fumble for the light switch before the small feed room they were standing in could be swathed in a dim yellow glow. A half dozen blue bins lined the wall while a rickety ladder led up to a square hole in the ceiling where Arista assumed the hay was stored.

Luke quickly dropped her wrist, leaving Arista suddenly feeling very cold, as he set about measuring the oats. With nothing else to do, she observed him for a moment, admiring the way the yellow light made his short blonde hair appear to be spun of gold… She then mused of the probability of Athena's bridle being in the tack room before Luke spun around to acknowledge her once more.

"Alright," he said at last, "You take that side…" He gestured to the cans of oats he had sorted on the left, "And I'll take these," he said, heaving up the cans to the right and leading them toward the first stall next to the feed room.

"So who's this?" Arista asked excitedly, her eyes fixed on the large white head that had shoved its way over the stall guard and was extending its fine head and long neck in an effort to reach the cans she juggled in her arms.

Luke added a few more cans to her pile, freeing up his hands so he could unlatch the stall guard.

"Hey!" Arista griped indignantly, almost losing a can as she did so.

He flashed her a small grin before agilely ducking into the stall. "This," he said as he urged the Pegasus back so they could enter, "Is Yetti."

"Oh…" Arista sighed absently as she took in the sight of a Pegasus for the first time. Yetti's coat gleamed a radiant white in the dimness of the barn and his impressive wings, tucked neatly against his sides, looked as soft and fluffy as clouds. "He's beautiful…"

Luke grabbed one of the cans from her, and she belatedly noticed that each sported a name on the side. "I think we prefer the term, handsome," he said as he poured the contents into the five-gallon bucket.

Expecting the Pegasus to dig in the moment Luke gave him the clearance to, Arista was surprised when, instead, the creature snorted and shied away from them. Yetti's large, black, inquisitive eyes rolled and his nostrils flared as he continued to back away from them, eyeing Arista with fear.

"Whoa…easy…." Luke murmured, trying to extricate himself before the creature's thrashing could crush him against the stall walls. "Something has him spooked, get out of here," he said in the same soothing voice, not even looking at her.

Arista held the door ajar for Luke and slammed it shut as soon as he had gotten out. "I'm sorry about that, Yetti is usually very well-mannered. Don't know what got into him…" Yetti snorted and gave a tremendous kick against the stall causing wood to splinter loudly in the morning stillness.

Arista had an idea. The look in the eye of the Pegasus was the same she had seen in the bear in the woods. An inner turmoil, a dash of madness- a hint of insanity; these were the beings that dwelt within the two animals as they had gazed upon her and she upon them.

But she only said to Luke, "Me neither. Glad you got out of there okay." She held up the next can in her arms, reading the name and vowing not to make eye contact with the poor creature. "Which one is Deinos?"

A different bang drew their attention away from Yetti's stall where the large white Pegasus continued to pace nervously. "You'll see…" Luke said mysteriously before leading her around the corner and to the very end of the row where a lone stall stood by itself, its occupant swathed in darkness near the back wall.

Another bang resounded, this time very loud, as it was the occupant of the dark, lonely stall they stood before that seemed fond of kicking. "Deinos the terrible," Luke whispered.

"Why do you call it terrible?"

Suddenly, a black head, teeth bared, lunged out over the stall door. Arista gasped and accidentally spilled one of her cans, her back slamming hard into Luke's chest as she recoiled in surprise. The coal black face, difficult to see in the darkness at the back of the barn paused for a brief moment, its nostrils flared and then slowly withdrew back into the recesses of its shadowed stall. Before it disappeared however, Arista had the distinct impression that its eyes had flashed red.

Her heart dropping from her throat to a more manageable location, Arista noticed with a similar jolt that one of Luke's hands had reached out to steady her waist. And was still there, feeling way too natural to be good. Trying not to gulp, Arista blushed and quickly straitened herself. "Sorry…" she murmured.

"It's fine," he said, the hint of a laugh behind his words. "I should have given you some warning."

"Well, you did say 'terrible.' What's the trauma with that one?" She asked, bending down to scoop up some of the fallen pellets.

"We're not sure. She's always been loco. It's rumored that the mare even mauled Chiron one time when he was trying to reason with her. That's how she got her name."

"Deinos? I've never heard of it before."

"Eh, don't sweat it," Luke said flashing her a grin. "Not many have. It was one of Hercules twelve labors to capture the four man-eating mares of Diomedes. The most horrible of the four was named Deinos, or the terrible."

"You know a lot about this."

He shrugged. "Occupational hazard. The mare's a real pain to care for. There was a long time that I thought I might be able to tame her or something, but she's pretty damaged." As he said this, Luke slid over a small opening near the mare's manger. He quickly dumped the oats in and closed it.

"I guess that takes care of the feeding part. How do you clean her stall?" Arista asked, cautiously edging toward the stall door to catch another glimpse of the demon.

"There's a small pen connected to her stall. We open it up from outside and clear out before she can get a hold of us. Then we shut her out of her stall and clean it while she's rampaging in the paddock."

Arista heard the rustle of the mare as she chomped on the food, her feet restlessly shifting in the straw as she ate. She could just make out the blacker than black outline of the mare. "But won't she just fly off as soon as she's outside?"

Luke's voice resounded with regret, "Her wings are bound."

"Oh…" Arista whispered sadly. Without realizing it, she was standing at the doorway to the stall, peering in at the mean, lonely Pegasus. The mare, sensing the eyes on her, wheeled around, and would have lunged again except this time, Arista caught the creature's eye, testing her ability.

The mare stopped mid-jump, frozen. Luke's fingers were gripped around Arista's arm and he was attempting to pull her away, but she stood her ground as she'd done in the forest. The girl and the Pegasus regarded each other for what seemed an era- they walked whole lifetimes in each other's eyes, feeling the balance grow between them as chaos shifted and was finally dispelled altogether.

The redness that had tinged the mare's eyes faded, replaced by a warm chocolaty brown. She gave a long sigh and then calmly walked to Arista, hanging her dainty black head over the door expectantly.

"Wha…?" Luke puzzled, clearly at a loss. "Are you sure your God parent isn't on your dad's side? Because Poseidon is fitting pretty well about now…"

Trying to keep her hand from trembling, Arista tenderly touched her fingertips to the mare's soft muzzle. The mare too seemed to be holding her breath because as they came into contact, she flinched, but held her ground, her eyes holding a sort of awe and intensity that Arista found hard to look away from. "Uh…no…" she whispered distractedly. "I'm sure. My dad was definitely not a God."

Arista unlatched the stall door, causing Luke to pull her back again. "What are you doing?" he nearly yelled, putting himself protectively between her and the mare.

"I want to go in there with her. Do you have any brushes? I bet she hasn't had her coat cleaned in forever. And it's so dark in there… maybe I could give her a grooming outside while you clean her stall…"

Luke looked at her like she was insane.

And perhaps she was, Arista thought as she considered the fact that she'd just swallowed a crazy mare's craziness. All that crazy had to go someplace.

"You're serious?" He asked, his grip relaxing slightly as the mare still didn't attack, or even pin her ears back at them.

"I go by Arista…but yea…" she tried to smile away his concerned look, but her stupid joking probably only made him think she was truly a weird one.

He stared at her for a minute, his face unreadable before he finally said, "We've got to finish up with the other Pegasi and then head to breakfast. Maybe I can take you back this evening and we can figure out what's going on with Deinos?"

Feeling like a freak, Arista lowered her head and nodded. Luke took a few cans from the floor where she'd sat them and began distributing the feed to the other Pegasi. Arista brushed her hand along Deinos' face, the grime sticking to her palm and making her insides hurt with the pain the creature must have endured to become so unbalanced.

"I'll visit you again," she promised, going to help Luke complete his chore and hoping her Goddess mother would show up soon. She had a lot of explaining to do.


	7. Madness

"**Discordia"**

_Disclaimer: All belongs to Rick Riordan except Deinos who belongs to antiquity and Arista who only belongs to me….well, and Discordia. _

_A/N: Deinos is hungry for reviews. Completely off subject, but let me just state that 'Lost Hero' was fantastic! My title is completely justified now. _

Chapter 7: Madness

The evening sky over Long Island Sound was a vibrant accord of deep pink and raging orange, the pale flare of blue dying behind it like embers in the Pavilion's fire. The water fifty feet below Arista swirled and cascaded toward Fireworks Beach like invading hordes, its tranquil lapis lazuli darkening with each passing wave into a sinister murky black. Ghostly tendrils of moonlight were already fanning their way across the valley as though Artemis herself were running her fingers through the strawberry fields.

From beneath her, Deinos heaved a contented sigh, her majestic black wings spread wide as she caught herself on the cool autumn breeze. Arista too was content for the moment as together, they watched the sunset over the forest, blackness and moonlight overpowering the emerald green at last.

The campers were milling about, that odd hour between dinner and sleep fleeting and precious. The Aphrodite socialites used it for gossiping and dates while several Apollo kids were nestled in the Amphitheater, their weekly karaoke night a point of contention amongst the other campers. Ares' spawn could be found at the Armory or the Arena, every ounce of daylight a good moment for sharpening their blades or making use of them. Coming in from the fields, their pockets stuffed with strawberries as big as plums, were the daughters of Demeter. In the Arts and Crafts Pavilion, sons of Hephaestus tirelessly drafted blueprint after blueprint of their latest invention, the floor littered with enough paper to insight a wood nymph riot. Over at the volleyball court, the Athena campers were fending off a challenge from the Hermes campers. The Hermes sprites might have been faster, but the Athena crowd's positioning and perfectly timed spikes kept the score even.

From her vantage in the sky Arista witnessed them all and blasphemously compared the powerful feeling to that of their mothers and fathers staring down at them from Olympus. Then she remembered that her mother probably wasn't very welcome in Olympus and she stifled the thought, wishing that she and Deinos could simply take off over the ocean and escape the prolonged torture that was becoming camp.

What had begun as the most incredible and fantastical adventure soon became the glaring mockery of a shadowed half-life. Her mother, who still refused to claim Arista, had finally appeared to the young woman in her dreams. She had been ethereally beautiful, with snow-white skin, dark, coaled eyes, impossibly high cheekbones and impossibly long, pale ringlets of golden hair. She wore a simple white toga but the glaring red and black sash tied around her elegant waist, the sandals that sensuously looped around her narrow ankles, and the black tiara that dripped of blood and left tiny crimson droplets in her fair hair augmented the unspoiled goddess effect like a poisonous snake's warning signs. And when the Goddess arrived before Arista in a burning white haze of her dream's background, Arista saw that the outer beauty of the woman was a mere façade. In her irises swelled a black inferno, so heated, a red tinge appeared at the very center. To look into those eyes was to look into madness.

Arista had quickly averted her gaze.

The Goddess said nothing but extended one of her slender pale arms out toward her daughter and forcefully tilted her chin up so Arista had no choice but to look into those horrible eyes.

Insatiable laughter bubbled through Arista's mind like an infection as all consuming flames filled the void of her dream world. She felt herself both terrified and awed by the absolute abandon with which the Goddess basked in the frenzied dance of the fire as it writhed and twisted around them, her eyes completely black now. Words came, though not from the Goddess's blood red lips.

"You will know him."

Arista needn't have inquired whom, for within the flames flowed images of a blue-eyed boy with blonde hair and a rugged white scar on his cheek.

The eerie voice went on, hypnotic and resounding as though the fire itself were howling, "You will help him."

The images shifted as the fire crackled. Through the heat, Arista saw Luke's face in agony as he tossed in his bunk. She saw another Luke, this time hunched over the railing on a large cruise ship, his face pale and sickly, his hands fisted with pain at his temples. The last image flickered like the fire was going out. It showed an older Luke, his hair slightly longer and his eyes sunken. In the fire, he was dying; a celestial bronze knife buried to the hilt under his arm. As his life blood flowed down the leather armor vest and soaked his undershirt, Luke's eyes, which had looked so contorted, so lost in an amber haze that reflected nothing but Apollo's golden glow, reverted back to their icy blue and his face relaxed as though a great burden had been lifted.

Arista's insides twisted as she watched Luke take his last breath. She fought the Goddess's grip, but found that no matter how hard she struggled, she could not move. Finally, the flames answered the question screaming inside her mind, "And together, you will unleash chaos."

And with that, Arista jolted awake with both the knowledge of her mother's identity and the horrible certainty that she hated her. The Goddess of strife and discord would not have many loving children.

She had been at camp now for over two months, had lived with the images her mother smote her with for half that time, and had become more withdrawn than even the most Igor-looking Hephaestus kid.

She had used her terrifying gift only once more, to relocate another unclaimed half-blood in the Hermes Cabin so that she could stay as far away from Luke Castellan as possible. After the incident her first morning in the stables, Luke had seemed weary of her and when she had withdrawn from him after her nightmare visit, he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to approach her.

Most campers in fact, gave her a wide berth, especially after she became a 'barn bum' and was found either caring for, or flying with Deinos whenever she had any free time.

Her classes blurred by. Sword fighting and archery coming easily enough though she would never rival Luke's elegant swings or the intensity Clarisse, the leader of the Ares Cabin, brought to her sparring. Classical education classes over mythology, philosophy, and rhetoric were taught by Chiron, debates held every Friday testing their sophistry. While Arista struggled with the gardening sessions (she only ever picked yellow apples, idly scratching _Kallisti_ into their soft golden skin), she was the camp's resident champion at the Friday night debates. When deception and reason failed to win over her argument, she would simply stare the other debater down. While it might not have been very nice of her, Arista found that she had something else besides the roving madness within her to contend with- she had a rivalry equal to none.

She really hated her mother.

Arista sighed as she spotted Luke sitting by himself near the Pavilion's bonfire, his legs stretched out in front of him and his eyes rooted to the dying embers. She saw Annabeth approach him but stop, take in his transfixed gaze and then turn and leave him alone. Luke's brooding had increased since Arista had made the move away from the bunk above him.

Arista knew that somehow, like she had with Deinos, her power was capable of reversing unrest, and that it soothed whatever was going on within Luke. But her mother wanted this. Heck, her mother seemed to count on the two of them being wound together in some wicked plan of hers. Arista knew that no plan of her mother's would ever have a happy ending or a happy beginning, middle or anything really so she made it a point to turn her eyes away from him.

Luke was a tragedy waiting to happen.

She brushed her calves lightly against the velvety sides of the Pegasus beneath her and they plunged toward the surf, landing in a canter along the sandy beach in the direction of the stables, silver moonlight showing the way. Arista gave Deinos a loving pat. The mare, her craziness held at bay when in Arista's presence, was a constant companion, sometimes Arista felt her only one.

As she neared the stables, she saw a light was on. Curiously, Arista dismounted and led Deinos inside. Her curiosity plummeted however when she saw whom it was- Silena Beauregard, the pretty, perfect daughter of Aphrodite. Arista considered herself an experienced equestrian, having grown up with and ridden horses practically her whole life. But Silena was a natural and when Arista found out that she had never even ridden before coming to Camp Half-Blood, her jealousy, err…unfounded competitive side had reared its ugly head.

It wasn't that Silena was a bad person, it's just that everything came so easily to her. Arista had even caught Luke watching her, not that Arista cared. She had to live with her decision to foil her mother's plans, whatever they may be.

Loneliness still stung though. Arista gave Silena a halfhearted wave when the girl smiled her beautiful smile and offered a pleasant greeting. 'At least we're taking that field trip to Olympus tomorrow…' Arista thought sullenly as she said good night to Deinos and made her way to the incessantly noisy Cabin Eleven.


	8. Dissension

**Discordia**

_Disclaimer: All belongs to Rick Riordan except Deinos who belongs to antiquity and Arista who only belongs to me… well, and Discordia herself._

_A/N: Thanks to the reviewers! You kept Deinos from starving. She's not nice to be around when she's hungry. Please let me know what you think of the new chapter…even though it's short I have two more written out that just need some editing so input would be awesome. Thanks again! _

Chapter 8: Dissension

Mount Olympus was as idealistically grandiose as Arista feared it might be. Far into the heavens above sparkling, glitzy New York dwelt the palace of the Gods, decadence divined. Gold was everywhere, from the perfectly spaced cobblestone street that delicately threaded its way up the summit, to the cherubs, benches, and lanterns that graced the myriads of fountains and gardens. The gardens themselves were fit to bursting with overwhelming roses of iridescent ivory, silky satin, impossibly blue sapphire, and found most noticeably, the rich ruby reds, who like sirens serenading, swayed dangerously when passed. Lilies, orchids, honeysuckle, and flowers Arista had never even dreamed of, let alone seen, found residence where they could, giving the rare patches of unflowered ground an extravagant lush quality.

Out of some fountains erupted scarlet wine, whose sweet grape aroma made many a camper's mouth water. When Chiron mentioned that the wine was often a temptress placed there by Dionysus to test a hero's honor, though, nearly all campers save the Stoll brothers looked away ashamed. Conner's quick glance to his brother assured Arista that the two found it far nobler to plot around Dionysus than to cave to the mad goat's sick tests.

Pearly Chalets with silvery overhangs adorned either side of the golden pathway like shiny little gingerbread houses. Some were the dwellings of the minor Gods that graced Olympus while others appeared the most fantastical boutiques selling potions that could grant true love, poisons to kill with a whisper a thousand miles away, fashions fit to custom beauty and beguile the unsightly, and bejeweled daggers and armor so polished they reflected the desire burning behind the eyes of Clarisse and her fellow Aries campers as they drooled over them.

The summit itself commanded all attention though. Spied only through brief reprieves offered by the radiant blanket of puffy white clouds that continuously swirled and twisted around it like some sparkling vanilla ice cream atop a cone of gold, the very top of Mount Olympus, the home of the twelve, was bedecked with the glistening, diamond frosted columns of the greatest Doric temple of them all, eclipsing even the Parthenon in its hay day.

It was to the temple that Chiron guided their group, pointing out as a tour guide might the different Deities that resided in each ornate cabin along the way as though they were in Hollywood seeing the stars. Everyone would have brought their cameras too except it was posted that flash photography would earn the photographer a one way trip to the Fields of Punishment and no one wanted to risk it.

"This, needless to say, is the Throne Room," Chiron narrated as the campers flooded into the enormous space. The ceiling swirled with the heavens and the floor's lacquered surface reflected the torchlight so well that it seemed like they were stepping over brooks of molten gold. Situated in the horseshoe pattern the Cabins at Camp Half-Blood had been modeled after, were the twelve seats of the Olympians.

"Great power resides in each of the throne chairs, vestiges of the Gods themselves. As we come at the Winter Solstice, you will have the privilege of watching the Gods conduct their affairs in these very seats tomorrow." Chiron's bay body pivoted and he gestured with his human arm toward the top of the horseshoe where Zeus's heavenly throne and fabled lightning bolt sat. The bolt itself was radiant blue, zinging and surging with the power contained inside it. "The King of the Gods is already amongst us, as is his brother, Lord of the Underworld," here Chiron pointed out the seat swathed in darkness, despair clinging to it like frost. The legendary Helm of Darkness seethed through the murky cold smoke of the throne as though floating, its slanted eyeholes gleaming with a red fire and its blacker than midnight enamel whispering horrible things seen and done.

Everyone shied away from Hades seat, if creepy black fog with glowing red eyes could be endeared as such, and gravitated toward their mother or father's. Hermes throne, made entirely of hummingbird like Winged Nikes, was by far the most crowded. Arista meandered around the Horseshoe for a time, pausing at each of the thrones in turn and idly wondering which she would have wished for her Godly parent if given the choice.

Planting herself before Athena's and marveling at the simple elegance of the twisted olivewood fixture, a live grey owl posted serenely at it peak, Arista nearly jumped when a quiet voice behind her observed, "Mom tends to shy away from extravagance," both Arista and Annabeth cast a sidelong glance at Aphrodite's throne, the plushest, laciest, pinkest heart shape cushion imaginable. Annabeth fixed her stormy owl gray eyes on Arista, the full weight of her wisdom seeming to come to terms with the proximity of her mother's seat. "I'm sorry you haven't been claimed yet."

Arista brushed a wayward blonde strand tenderly from the girl's cheek. "Thank you."

A sharp cry of pain broke the scattered conversations as all eyes turned to witness Beckendorf do battle with his father's throne that had suddenly shifted into a whirling dervish of chomping steel and angry, hissing wires.

The Hephaestus campers rallied behind their councilor as wrenches and screwdrivers were wielded like daggers and spears. As though sensing the blood, Ares cabin jumped in the fray, this time with real weapons and it was all Chiron could do to usher everyone out and un-trigger the booby-trap in the crazy metal contraption.

As it whizzed to a stop amid Beckendorf's deep-voiced denials of having activated anything on his father's monster, Arista glimpsed Luke slipping out between two of the monolithic fluted columns on the side of the temple. Like a ninja, or just your typical ADHD Hermes elf, he stole into the group, oil slick. No one but Arista, who hadn't really been all that overly concerned with the Tasmanian horror chair attacking her, seemed to notice Luke's indiscretion.

When he saw her staring at him, he raised a confused brow, his impish face a mask of innocence. Arista quickly turned away, thoughts flying through her mind faster than Deinos. The primary question was not what Luke was plotting, but how evil would it be? Arista's mother was not likely to speak to her daughter unless it was a Kraken-sized sin.

That night, the campers nestled in sleeping bags they had brought with them. Their multicolored nylon fleet haphazardly littered the marble floor of the entranceway known as the Propylaia, a huge Doric and Ionic structure, almost rivaling in its grandness with the Temple of the Olympians just beyond it. Covering the walls and facades of the Propylaia were lively gem colored paintings that captured scenes of the various heroes and that of the Graces, deities renown this day and age more for their nightly raves than their feasting. Life-like statues of the Olympians, each nearly translucent so that the light of their likeness would shine through, adorned the many loggias of the Propylaia. Campers slept by the statue of their Olympian, the unclaimed occupying any leftover space and being made to feel even more worthless than usual.

Sick of tossing and turning on the hard floor, praying to a Goddess who would never in her wildest dreams (even when wildness was her only dream) answer her daughter's plea for a mat, Arista sighed and quietly wiggled out of her sleeping bag.

The endless array of clouds that perpetually belted the summit and obscured the Temple were no where in sight once darkness came and in their wake were left a multitude of stars, so vast and bright they nearly stung to look at.

Curious if Venus would be blanketed in a rosy hue or if one of Mars' large mountains would be visible with pikes and spears planted atop, Arista slowly tiptoed up the Acropolis, arms tightly crossed over her chest to stave off the crisp honeysuckled air.

The Roman-named planets were indeed much clearer, but it was the shadow that moved near the Temple that attracted Arista's keen half-blood eyes. Heart rate picking up, she crept closer until she could hide against one of the huge monolithic columns. Peering around it, she spied nothing for a moment but then the shadow moved once more, lithely as though it were Peter Pan's.

Hugging the columns, Arista cautiously followed Pan's shadow until it ducked into the throne chamber and she had to wait at the entranceway or risk exposing herself. Daring a glimpse, she saw nothing until the Helm of Darkness seemed to move of its own accord through the fog, a glowing blue shape forming behind it. As the mists swirled and cleared, the blue glow silhouetted the shape and it gained arms and legs and then a head and finally, the face of Luke Castellan, carrying the Helm of Hades in one hand and the glowing blue lightning rod of Zeus in the other.


	9. Disturbing

**Discordia**

_Disclaimer: All belongs to Rick Riordan except Deinos who belongs to antiquity and Arista who only belongs to me… well, and Discordia herself._

_A/N: Huge thanks to Ceville, Chivasgirl23, and Hellcatfighter for reviewing the last chapter. I'll try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible. Please R&R. _

Chapter 9: Disturbing

The air was cold in the throne room, the chill constricting around Arista's throat and threatening to strangle her. Her breath hitched and she fell limply against the pillar she'd been hiding behind. What could Luke possibly hope to gain by stealing the rod and the helm? What could her mom gain from Arista's help in the matter?

Oh yea, Zeus and Hades probably wouldn't be too happy. They would most likely…

"You know," Luke pondered slowly, looking down with amusement at her 'deer caught in headlights expression, "You look kind of ridiculous down there."

Arista, her pony-patterned pajamas not at all fitting in with the decorum of the throne room, quickly scrambled to her feet and glared at him. "You look kind of ridiculous yourself, especially when _they_ find out what you've done," she stated icily, her fear at what he might do to her outweighed by the betrayal she was feeling. Luke might have featured heavily in her mother's creepy message, but he had still been a friend to her when she'd most needed one.

Luke grinned, his evil dimples showing. "Oh, I doubt that." And then quicker than Arista could blink, he roughly clutched her to him, enfolding her in his arms, one wrapped tight around her neck and the other around the middle of her back. The world spun, turning upside down and it was all Arista could do to hold onto Luke for dear life as her stomach hit her throat and her eyes watered painfully.

Just as suddenly as the world had flipped on its axis, it righted itself once more, leaving Arista frantically clinging Luke to her in the quiet stillness of one of the many vibrant gardens she'd passed earlier that day. He let her go and immediately her whole body began to tremble as her mind tried to wrap around the concept at having just been teleported.

Luke, amused but concerned when Arista's face turned a startling shade of green, soothed, "Hey…easy," and then wrapped his arms back around her, gently rocking her as she involuntarily continued to shake, her dinner threatening to come back up. She hoped it ended up on him.

The coldness soon melted away and Arista became aware of several things: Like how perfectly she fit in Luke's arms, being neither smothered nor made to feel too large. Or how warm and nicely toned his arms and body felt pressed tightly to her. Her cheek was nestled against his throat, her ear at his steady, rhythmic pulse point, and her nose caught the oddly endearing scent of his tangerine shampoo. Also, she no longer felt inclined to vomit all over him.

His soothing rocking eventually subsided until he was just simply holding her tightly to him and one more thing came to Arista- how perfect the moment would be if she weren't in pony pajamas and he weren't about to be smote by the Gods.

Disgusted with her weakness, her traitorous cheeks growing redder and more heated as the seconds dragged on, Arista finally managed to push herself away from him. Luke made no protest, instead regarding her calmly, his face a blank mask of shadows.

Not fast enough to snatch the bolt and helm from the ground beside them where they peacefully lay in the soft dewy grass, Arista struggled for a retort, something to flummox or sober him.

Instead, she could only come up with a rather hurt, "Why would you do this?"

"To set the Gods against each other in a civil war," he responded easily, as though it were the simplest thing.

That caught Arista by surprise. She had thought that maybe it was some horrible practical joke, or even some stupid bought of one-upmanship in thievery amongst the children of Hermes. This, however, was… exactly what Eris would want – chaos. The realization sent chills down Arista's spine, and left her at a loss for words.

Satisfied that he had her attention, Luke elaborated, "Hades will never let anyone know that his helm is missing, so the other Gods will think he took the bolt, while he will suspect Poseidon, since the trident is the only symbol of power left. The three brothers will fight each other, and everyone else will have to pick a side. Of course, I still have a lot of work to do for that to happen, but Olympus will fall."

He said the last with such certainty that Arista found herself afraid it might actually work. "Why are you telling me this?" she finally managed.

"Because you're going to help me."

Ha. "Not likely." Arista had been edging away as Luke spoke his crazy plan, and now she made to bolt.

"I wouldn't tell anyone if I were you."

The way he said it forced her to pause and turn around. "And just why is that?"

"Because no one will trust the word of a daughter of Eris over one of the camp counselors," he threatened.

Arista gasped in shock, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy for a few moments before she was able to stutter, "I…I haven't told anyone. How could you possibly know?"

"I've suspected for a long time. You've just confirmed it."

She studied him for a moment, his bravado unchanged, wisps of dirty blonde hair falling gracefully into his eyes with every passing breeze, and the scar on his cheek glowing white in the starlight. It was hard to believe this Luke, the same one that had befriended her on her first night at camp, the same Luke that she had thought cute and smart, who helped the young campers and cared for the Pegasi, would be blackmailing her now, seeking to bring down the Gods themselves.

"Why?" She finally asked in a voice she couldn't help but notice sounded small and plaintive.

The torchlight of the nearby lanterns that had previously been creating a beautiful, almost romantic glow now appeared to howl, everything being cast into sharp relief. On the chiseled lines of Luke's face in particular, added shadows now clung to the hollows of his cheeks, making him appear sinister in the flickering light.

When Luke pressed toward her, slowly for once, Arista stood her ground, sick of cowering and still waiting for her answer. She raised a brow but otherwise remained impassive as he grasped her hand and held her palm firmly to his cheek, her thumb able to trace his alabaster scar if she was so inclined.

She was not.

His voice low but the threat gone from it, Luke whispered, "Use your ability on me."

Confused, Arista weighed her options for a minute and tried to avoid his overwhelming and uncomfortably close gaze. Seeing no reason not to, as it would hurt neither of them, Arista finally complied. She wearily focused her energy and released its maniacal flow toward Luke as she had a hundred times before on Deinos and unwittingly on Luke himself when she'd first arrived at Camp.

With no apparent changes, Arista dropped her hand from his skin unceremoniously and crossed her arms. "Well?"

Luke had his eyes closed, his customary smirk nowhere in sight. Instead, he looked…peaceful. When he opened his eyes, the blue was less murky than before. He basked in the quietness as it washed over him for a few moments before taking a small step back. His focused eyes narrowed as he toyed with the scabbard to Backbiter that hung loosely from his hip.

Softly, he asked, "What have the Gods ever done for the world?" He let out a brief bark-like laugh. "What have they ever done for us, their own children? Look at Western Civilization through the ages and you'll see society upon society that has collapsed in upon its own decadence and filth. I serve one who would change this never-ending cycle and create the world anew, as it should have been." He leaned in, and even as she was attempting to shy away, he planted the lightest of kisses against the underside of her jaw, his lips ghosting over the skin so teasingly that she wasn't sure if he had actually touched her or not. Regardless, her flesh heated and hummed just the same even as her mind raced to figure out what game he played.

Luke straitened up, those same lips curling into a soft smile. "A world where no one would ever be ignored or made to survive on their own." The way he was leaning into her, the whole weight of his stare focused on her, something clicked.

Her confusion lessening, Arista finally caught on to what was happening. The kiss had done it. Luke was using her proximity, her unwitting power to hold at bay whatever it was that tortured him. He was trying to seduce her, and judging from how she, a self-proclaimed cynic had almost bought into his act, she estimated that this wasn't his first time. "That sounds like a pretty fantasy," Arista sighed flatly, slowly edging away from him. "But it holds true that nothing gold can stay. Utopias are kinda known for their fleetingness." A light in the distance began to move, coming in their direction. "Who's this guy you serve?"

Luke had spotted the light as well, all signs of rest drained from his face and he once more appeared slightly disheveled, the weary edges of gauntness rimming his features. "You'll know in time," he replied distractedly.

"What now?"

"You be a good little camper and explain how you got lost searching for the facilities."

"You honestly expect me to let you get away with this? I'm not buying into this whole 'better world' thing you've got going on. Plus, you won't even hint at who you're working for. It could be Medusa for all I know!"

"Hardly…" Luke knelt and bundled the glowing rod in his hoodie, gathering it and the helm before continuing, "The Gorgon is happy in her little emporium and nowhere near as powerful as my boss. Don't stress on it, all in good time. In the meanwhile, remember that you breathe one word of what went on tonight with anyone, and I will set you up for this so fast…" he shimmered for a moment, and a force behind her that felt suspiciously like hands pushed her to her knees then he was back before her again, all nearly in the blink of an eye. "Well, let's just say you won't know what hit you."

"Even when I can guarantee it was you?" Arista inquired acidly from her position below him.

"Possibly, but I have plenty of friends too. Unlike…well, you." He grinned at her and then vanished.

Anger, annoyance, and panic flooded her nerves and her fingers tensed and knotted themselves in the rich, dewy grass. The lovely smells of the garden only further served to aggravate her as she quickly tried to weigh her options.

Luke would make good on his promise of framing her. She had no proof that she could pin on him and he was the councilor, she the new girl that very little was known about. That left her with accepting the punishment. What was the worst they could do if she turned it over? It's not like they would kill her for it. Right?

Then again, the Gods had done much worse to people for much less. They were fickle and how much did she really owe them?

Luke might have appeared less than sane tonight, but he had made a few good points. But at the same time, her mother liked whatever Luke was up to, guaranteeing that if it succeeded, the end result would include as much chaos as possible.

Sighing, Arista pushed herself unsteadily to her feet and turned to meet a frowning face with many wrinkles and lines stretched across it. The man was dressed in a security guard outfit, complete with a nightstick that hung loosely from his belt. Arista's gaze wandered upward and she had to stifle a gasp as the weight of his stare hit her. His eyes were the darkest gray she had ever seen, like the endless expanse nothingness at the bottom of the ocean.

In a weary sigh, the haggard looking man asked her, "What are you doing out here so late?" Light from the lanterns shifted and she read his badge, 'Ponos.'

Arista gave her uncle a nervous smile. "I must have been sleep-walking again. Am I in trouble?"

Ponos raised a graying brow skeptically. "Sleepwalking eh? I've been toiling about these grounds for the past millenia and very rarely is that excuse given."

She shrugged. "It's the truth." He gave a muttered sigh. "I'm sorry for disrupting your rounds."

"Disrupting? All your friends tucked away, sleeping as they should and you off alone causing problems." The lines in his face deepened, making the God appear slightly possessed of his fatigue. "I can't abide by disruptions. Any more than I can abide by those who go about needlessly causing them for the sake of causing them. My fool sister would like you though."

Already knowing the answer but curious as to what he'd say, Arista asked, "Is she here too?"

"Ha! That she-witch has been exiled since the Trojan War. Zeus can't even stand to look at her. Said if she so much as set foot here, he'd imprison her in the house of Harmonia and force her to spend an eternity learning to bake and knit symmetric designs." He laughed a bit at that.

"So who is your sister? Does she have any kids I would know?" Arista knew she was pushing it but Ponos just laughed some more, a tired sort of weazing laugh.

"Oh goodness no! That crazy bitch with kids? Ares might be okay with the thought, but the others would just as soon throw her spawn off the mountain before they caused any trouble."

Arista gave a high nervous chuckle. "Uh…well, like I said. I really am sorry for causing _you_ trouble. I'll go back to my bunk now if that's okay?"

Ponos frown deepened, if possible. "Very well…" he said finally. Arista let him escort her back to the Propylaea, her mind a jumble of thoughts. The only clear one seemed to be that for now at least, she would be playing along and if lucky, maybe she could play both sides until a reasonable outcome presented itself.

She was not eager to end up like Bellerophon.


End file.
